


We End by Coming Home

by patster223



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7062229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patster223/pseuds/patster223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It begins with Sloane’s cheek pressed against the cold metal of their battlewagon, as she stares at the bright halo of sunlight bouncing off of Hurley’s curls. </p><p>(That’s not truly where <em>they</em> begin, but the tight cinch of the sash around Sloane’s waist makes it hard for her to remember many beginnings. She has to make due with this one.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	We End by Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't think I'd be writing another TAZ fic, but then I saw [these two](http://otp-imagines-cult.tumblr.com/post/145219617494/imagine-person-a-beginning-to-doze-off-while) [posts](http://angerliz.tumblr.com/post/143720298345/thinking-about-post-sash-pre-breakup-sloanehurley) and couldn't help myself.

It begins with Sloane’s cheek pressed against the cold metal of their battlewagon, as she stares at the bright halo of sunlight bouncing off of Hurley’s curls.

(That’s not truly where _they_ begin, but the tight cinch of the sash around Sloane’s waist makes it hard for her to remember many beginnings. She has to make due with this one.)

Sloane squints at the sunlight that bursts through Hurley’s hair. She means to say _beautiful,_ but what comes out instead is: “Ouch.”

Hurley looks Sloane up and down in response to the non-sequitur, and rolls her eyes. “Haven’t I told you not to get on the delirious side of sleep-deprived? At least, not when we’ve got a race coming up.”

“I could be taking a nap right now if not for your hair blinding me,” Sloane says, smiling when the quip makes Hurley laugh.

“Come on, Sloane. When _was_ the last time you slept?”

 “…Recently.”

Hurley puts down her wrench. She wipes the oil off her hand before threading it through Sloane’s hair. Her fingers work their way carefully through the thick knots that have gathered there. Sloane sighs softly.

“You’re exhausted,” Hurley says. “Come home with me.”

Sloane’s stomach twists with bubbly warmth, just like it did the first time Hurley said those words. This time, though, Sloane shakes her head in response to them.

It’s just…the sash at her waist is so _tight_ right now. It’s occluding that bubbly warmth, filling Sloane’s stomach with something darker, more electric: something heavy enough to have kept Sloane from drifting off to sleep for _days_ now.

But Sloane doesn’t know how to explain all that to Hurley. Instead, she says, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…You have work tomorrow.”

“If you really cared about my work, maybe you’d stop robbing department stores,” Hurley teases. She’s short enough that she doesn’t have to lean down to kiss Sloane when Sloane is sitting like this. After their lips part, Hurley whispers, “Come home.”

Sloane does. Not even the tightness of the sash can stop Sloane from obeying the unspoken words that lie within Hurley’s command: _Come [to_ our _] home._

Hurley’s sheets are clean and cool against Sloane’s skin. She closes her eyes when Hurley’s warm body slips beneath the sheets; Sloane hates that that warmth still doesn’t cancel out the lingering heaviness in her belly. Sloane closes her eyes tighter, rubbing her cheek against the softness of Hurley’s hair.

“You okay?” Hurley murmurs, already half-asleep.

“Yeah,” Sloane manages.

“I can hear it when you’re plotting, you know,” Hurley yawns. “Especially when it’s something that’ll get me in trouble at work.”

Sloane shakes her head. She presses a kiss to Hurley’s hair, trying to shove down that manic heaviness that stirs in her belly. She means her next words as a joke—a continuation of their usual cops and robbers banter—but instead, they come out achingly sincere. “I’ll protect you.”

Hurley’s resulting snort is half-laughter, half-snore. “From what?”

Sloane’s not really sure. Hurley doesn’t need protection—even as a halfling policing a city as corrupt as Gold Cliff, Hurley holds her own. Hell, Hurley ends up protecting _Sloane_ more often than not. What could Sloane have to offer someone like that?

Finally, Sloane whispers, “I don’t know. Anything.” But Hurley is already asleep.

In Sloane’s muddled, aching mind, that’s where it begins, but this: this is where it ends. It ends with Hurley storming into their workshop a few months later, with her ripping off her mask and throwing it to the floor.

“What was that, Sloane?” Hurley demands. “We said when we started, we said that we weren’t going to be that kind of team!”

“The kind that wins?” Sloane says, spitting out the words like tar. Her mask is still on: tight and hot around her face.

Hurley glares. “The kind that _kills_ just to win a damn _race._ What the hell happened out there?”

Sloane can’t speak. If she does, all that will issue forth is that rancid tar. She can feel it: churning in her stomach, flowing through her veins, filling her to the brim until she overflows with its heady energy.

She clenches her fists. She _won._ She won the race, shouldn’t that be enough? What does she have to do to stop _feeling_ like this?

“Sloane!” Hurley cries. “Sloane, what is going on? Will you just _talk_ to me?”

The tar has clogged Sloane’s throat. She can’t stand how warm Hurley’s body is next to hers: not when Sloane herself keeps bouncing between being freezing and burning alive.

She…she thinks that she could destroy Hurley with her freezing, burning body, if she tried, and then she remembers their beginning: remembers _I don’t know. Anything_ and knows that that included herself. So, Sloane swallows that tar, shoves past Hurley, and slams the garage door shut behind her. And that is how they end.

 

(Except it isn’t. Because once Sloane is free from the suffocating grasp of that sash, once she’s finally able to _breathe_ and _speak_ again, she remembers their beginning and she sees their ending.

In their beginning, Sloane is light and _vibrant,_ and Hurley laughs with excitement as they begin their chase.

In their ending, they are wrapped in cherry blossoms. Sloane’s stomach is warm and wonderfully empty but for Hurley’s love. And it doesn’t feel like an ending at all.)


End file.
